Rekindling the Flame
by Agent Malkere
Summary: In the wake of the Justice Lords' fall and with fear of metahumans at an all-time high, Garfield Logan (aka Beast Boy) is on the run from pretty much everybody. Sometimes help arrives in the most unexpected places. (A companion story to 'From the Ashes')


_**Rekindling the Flame** _

_By Agent Malkere_

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Justice League or any of its characters. If I did, the Phoenix Corps would have their own comic series.**

 _A/N: Prize fic for Outasync. This takes place during the first two chapters of "From the Ashes," but you don't need prior knowledge of that story to understand this._

* * *

The ally was silent except for the slight rustle of a discarded newspaper in the breeze. 'JUSTICE LORDS TO STAND TRIAL,' the headline read. Twenty minutes earlier, the small back ally had been host to an angry mob of people. They had kicked over garbage cans and shouted. They'd been chasing something, looking for something. They hadn't found it.

There was another rustle, but this one wasn't from the abandoned newspaper. This one came from a drainpipe near the ally floor. Ever so slowly, a rat peaked its nose out. When nothing happened, it slowly lean its entire head out of the pipe. It was a tad on the large side for a rat. It was also green.

The rat's nose twitched, and after another long moment, it scuttled the rest of the way out into the ally. It sat on its haunches and gave its whiskers a quick brush with its forepaws. Then it did something that was odd – ever for an unnaturally green rat. It started to grow and change shape. Seconds later a young man was sitting in the rat's place. His skin and hair were the same vivid green as the rat's fur. There were bags under his eyes, his cheeks were gaunt, and his clothes had definitely seen better days.

Garfield Logan, formerly Beast Boy of the Teen Titans, closed his eyes briefly and ran his hands through his hair. That was the third mob he'd had to out run since the riots had finally stopped, and this one had gotten way too close. Gar wished he had a way of contacting his fellow former Titans, but they'd all decided to go their separate ways about three years before the rise of the Lords. Communications had been limited and monitored during their reign. Gar hadn't seen any of his former teammates on the news. He had heard about what had happened to Speedy from Titans East and Black Canary and… well, there had been a lot of others. Gar just hoped his friends were okay wherever they were. His cell phone had gotten smashed during the riots.

The hero community wasn't the only one that had been left devastated in the Lords' wake. There were definitely a lot less supervillains around. The ones that couldn't be lobotomized, Lord Superman had simply… decapitated. A healing factor did remarkably little good when your head was separated from your shoulders. Gar didn't mourn the passing of someone like Deathstroke but….

Gar shook his head and pushed the memories to the back of his mind. He slowly pulled himself to his feet. His muscles and joints creaked and groaned in protest. He'd been shifting too often with too little food. Shifting shape burned a hell of a lot of calories, and Gar had been on the streets for weeks now. Thanks to his green skin, he couldn't get within twenty yards of a soup kitchen without inspiring a mob. Dumpster diving really wasn't cutting it.

"Neat trick."

Gar startled at the unexpected voice and nearly screamed. He didn't have the energy to shift again. He spun, desperately searching for some means of escape, but the ally was a dead end.

"Woah! Woah! Calm down! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Gar hesitated. That sounded… far more calm and reasonable than any of the human interaction he'd had recently. He turned.

A man was standing at the mouth of the ally. Fairly tall with short, styled, golden-blond hair. He wore a cheap but nice navy blue suit and had… a black eyepatch over his right eye. It made him look like the villain from a particularly cheesy soap opera. Thin lines of scarring spider-webbed out from under the edges of the eyepatch. His body language was relaxed and non-confrontational.

"What do you want?" Gar asked hesitantly. The man grinned a grin full of brilliant white teeth. It was practically blinding.

"The name's Michael Carter, but you can just call me Booster."

Gar's shoulders relaxed a fraction.

"What kind of a name is Booster?"

Booster shrugged.

"A nickname from back in the day. I like it better than Mike." For a brief moment, a slightly wistful expression passed across his face. "Anyway, you look like you're in a rough spot, and my roommate always orders too much takeout when it's his turn. You hungry?"

Gar stared at him doubtfully.

"Seriously?"

Booster's expression became serious.

"You're that shapeshifting kid who used to be a part of the Teen Titans in Jump City, right?" Gar nodded slowly. "You saved my buddy when he was on a business trip in Jump City about six years ago. You've done too much good to be living on the streets like a fugitive, kid." Booster offered Gar a hand. "This is the part where the world gives you something back."

Gar hesitantly accepted his hand.

* * *

Booster's roommate was a man name Ted Kord, and he was blind. It looked like the result of an accident the same way that Booster's right eye did. Ted beamed at Gar's left shoulder as he shook his hand. It was a little unnerving. Thankfully, he was wearing sunglasses.

"Kord as in Kord Industries?" Gar couldn't help but ask.

Ted gave a rueful sigh.

"Yeah, I was CEO until the accident and Wayne Industries' hostile takeover. Thankfully, I had awesome benefits, and a friend who can cook. More or less."

"Hey," Booster huffed. "My cooking is fantastic."

Ted patted his shoulder.

"It's lovely that you think so, but the fate of our last oven begs to differ."

"It was _old_. It's not _my_ fault that it set itself on fire!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. Go set the table – I'm going to give our guest the tour."

"Really?" asked Gar, and then cringed internally. He was just asking all the wrong questions and these two were being so nice to him. Ted didn't seem bothered though.

"Booster may have the only working eye between us, but I am a much better tour guide."

* * *

Gar lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't believe that he was sleeping in a real bed. He couldn't believe that both Booster and Ted had insisted on him staying the night. He'd had a shower and a decent meal – it had even been vegetarian. Gar kept expecting to wake up back in that ally, bloody and concussed.

Sleep tugged at him from every angle as his eyes grew heavy. Just as Gar was finally drifting off, he heard the soft murmur of voices.

"How'd you know where to find him?"

"He'll write a book one day."

Gar slipped into slumber before he could ponder those words further.

* * *

One night in Ted and Booster's apartment turned into two and then three and then an entire month. Booster, it turned out, worked as a PR agent, and Ted did a bit consultation work. They didn't make a whole lot – just enough to get by. Gar took over doing chores and cooking to make up for the fact that he didn't have any sort of income to contribute and he was still crashing in their spare room. Booster complained a bit about Gar's need to include tofu in everything they ate, but it was halfhearted at best.

Neither of them cared if Gar occasionally shifted into a cat to sleep in the sun. Booster actually bought one of those jiggly cat toys for him as a joke. It was relaxing, and made it easier to forget that he couldn't venture outside without seriously risking his own safety.

* * *

"How'd you two ever run into each other anyway?" asked Gar. He was elbow deep in soapsuds cleaning up the pots and pans from supper the night before. Ted was sitting at the kitchen table reading something in Brail.

"Hm? Oh, Booster nearly got himself squashed trying to stop a building from collapsing while I was in the middle of a fight with the Royal Flush Gang and in the resulting kerfuffle he kind of landed on top of me. We've been friends ever since."

" _The Royal Flush Gang_?!" Gar yelped and nearly dropped the pan he was holding. "But those guys were-"

"Really pathetic bad guys," Ted finished for him. He paused and raised his eyebrows. "Wait, didn't Boost tell you that we used to do the whole crime fighting thing? I thought that was why you agreed to stay with us in the first place."

Gar gaped at him for a second.

"No. He failed to mention that part."

"Oh. Well, I used to be Blue Beetle, and Booster was Booster Gold. We weren't particularly well known."

"I remember hearing about you," Gar admitted. "Not Booster, though."

Ted grinned in a wistful sort of way.

"That's because everybody was always getting his name wrong."

"So… your accident wasn't really an 'accident' then?" Gar asked quietly.

"No," Ted murmured, turning his head away. "I was in my lab when it happened but… no. I'm fairly certain Batman set it up. What better way to slow down a man whose main weapon is his mind than by blinding him?" He was quiet for a long moment. "Booster lost his eye in a head-on confrontation with Wonder Woman, the idiot. She smashed in the right side of his visor, wrecked his tech, and destroyed Skeets."

"Skeets?"

"His robotic friend. Skeets was sort of Booster's data support guy. Neither of us had powers of any sort."

Silence stretched out between them.

"Do you ever regret it?" Gar finally asked.

"Nah. I wouldn't mind the opportunity to flatten Batman's nose for what he did, but I wouldn't change any of the decisions I made. I did a lot of good as Blue Beetle."

"I wish-" Gar stopped and then started again. "I wish I could still help people. Without scaring them."

* * *

"Guys, you're great, but I can't keep mooching off of you like this." Gar let out a frustrated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. He flopped down on the couch despondently.

"You're not mooching," Ted protested.

"I don't pay rent, and I eat the majority of your food."

"Yes," Booster held up a finger, "but you do the dishes, and I really hate doing the dishes."

"I can't live here forever. I need… _space_. I haven't been outside in months. I… need to _do_ something. _Help_ people. I keep reading about all this stuff that's been happening in the Free Press, and… I just can't sit back and _watch_ anymore. It's killing me."

Booster stared at him for a long moment and then stood up and checked the calendar he kept on the fridge. He nodded to himself and then returned to the living room.

"So… I might have an idea about that."

Gar frowned at him.

"An idea about what?"

"The helping people thing. I've… _heard_ about this group. Well, it's a network really. Anyway, there's this, huh, group of vigilantes that have been helping to rebuilding things after what happened with the Lords. You know, keep the crime rate down and the streets safe and all that. They're based out of a warehouse, don't have a lot of money, but they do seem to be taking on new members. They call themselves the Phoenix Corps. I think."

Gar didn't think to question how Booster knew any of this. He was too caught up in the possibilities, in the hope.

"Do you think… they'd be willing to take on a meta?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think they would."

* * *

Gar stood outside the warehouse door. The sun was too hot, especially with all the lairs of clothing he was wearing to hide his skin. He still didn't know how Booster had managed to get his hands on the Phoenix Corps' address, but, well… Booster did seem to have a way of finding out unexpected facts. He just hoped that this really was the right door. The place looked awfully abandoned. After another second's pause, Gar finally lifted he fist and pounded on the door with more confidence than he felt.

There was a noise on the other side of the door. A series of noises actually. _Please, let this be the right door._

The door creaked open and a face wearing a black half-mask peered out at Gar. That was definitely a good start. Gar raised his arms and tried to look as nonthreatening as possible.

"Listen, I know that nobody is really keen on metas at the moment, but… I've got nowhere else to go." It wasn't entirely true. Gar could go back to Ted and Booster's apartment, but he'd imposed on their hospitality far too long already. He pulled up his tinted goggles, subtly crossed his fingers, and hoped.

His hope was rewarded.

" _Gar?!_ "

Gar gaped, because _he knew that voice!_

" _Robin?!_ " He honestly hadn't thought his friend was still alive after all that had happened, but to find him here like this – it was almost too good to be true.

"Actually, I go by Nightwing these days."

Oh, yeah, Gar vaguely remembered hearing about that.

"Who cares? I found you!"

Gar grabbed hold of his friend and hugged him with all his might. Somewhere over Robi- _Nightwing_ 's shoulder, Gar notice several other masked vigilantes watching him with a variety of confused and bemused expressions, but he honestly couldn't care less.

* * *

 _A/N: I hope you enjoyed this, Outasync!_

 _If you'd like to read more about Gar and the Phoenix Corps, check out "From the Ashes." Also, yes, Booster and Ted will be making their official debut in FtA soon._


End file.
